


Midnight in the Garden of Evil

by Jtargaryen18 (snowqueen79), snowqueen79



Category: We Have Always Lived in the Castle (2019)
Genre: Breeding Kink, F/M, Non-con explicit sexual content, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27581195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowqueen79/pseuds/Jtargaryen18, https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowqueen79/pseuds/snowqueen79
Summary: You lucked out and got a ticket for the celebrity Halloween charity event at the famed Winter-Sun building. You were there to see Sebastian Stan as Charles Blackwood.
Relationships: Charles Blackwood/Reader, Charles Blackwood/You
Kudos: 69





	Midnight in the Garden of Evil

**Author's Note:**

> For Halloween, I did a challenge where the reader or OC bought a ticket to a charity haunted house to see the celebrity of their choice. The only problem? When they went into the set, they stepped into an alternate dimension where it wasn't an act. It was real.

Your lungs burned as you reached the front of the Winter-Sun building. No one else was there on that slim carpeted runway, sectioned off by velvet ropes.

Your heart sank as you checked your watch to see it was one minute to midnight. You were too late.

_Fuck._

Carefully, like someone was going to yell at you if they saw you, you made your way up that walk, over that red carpet, stopping where bronze posts held up one side of those ornate ropes. Was anyone there? Was there any chance?

Could you hate your job _more_? Your asshat boss threw stuff at you all day as if he were deliberately trying to fuck up this most precious of opportunities.

You’d worked a shit ton of overtime just to afford the ticket that you still couldn’t believe you were able to snag online. A chance to see _the_ Sebastian Stan at this charity haunted house as one of your favorite literary characters – Charles Blackwood from Shirley Jackson’s _We’ve Always Lived at the Castle_.

Blowing out an exhale, you shook your head. _You were too late._

Just as you turned to head back to the parking lot, a melodic voice stopped you.

“There you are!”

Okay, she sounded friendly which was the only reason you dared to turn back around.

_Wow._ The young woman making her way out the door of the historical building looked exactly like Constance from the movie. Oh, you couldn’t remember the actress’s name, but she had the same Snow White coloring with cornflower-blue eyes, blue-black hair, perfect porcelain skin, and a baby blue fifties dress that you’d kill to have.

You smiled back at her apologetically. “I just got here.”

She nodded, eyes shining. “And he’s waiting. Do you have your ticket?”

Sebastian Stan was waiting for _you_? Sending up a prayer of thanks, you walked to her, fishing your ticket out of your jacket pocket. Your hand shook when you handed it to her.

“Wonderful,” Constance said sweetly. “If you’ll follow me.”

You had no problem with that. You followed her into the building that you’d only ever been in once for a field trip in fifth grade. The hallway lined in offices looked ordinary enough. But she led you further, into the darkness beyond.

A cool breeze blew over you, the scent of something alive and sweet carried through the air. The sounds of birds, crickets. _Wow, this attraction was really good_.

“Enjoy,” Constance bid you, stopping at the edge of what looked like a magnificent garden swallowed in the nighttime shadows. When she motioned you forward, you willingly went.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” you heard a voice calling out in the darkness.

That was him. That was _him_. _That was Sebastian._

Well, Charles.

Your heart raced in excitement as you stopped, standing next to the wide trunk of a huge oak tree. You went to step over a large root, to move out towards what looked like a path all lit up in the moonlight when your heel caught.

Heel? You were wearing flats with your jeans and a nice sweater. If it was like any other fan encounter you’d ever paid for you didn’t need to really dress up.

But speaking of dress, the silky skirt of yours fell just past your knees. Pale pink was a good color on you, it was true. But where did it come from? The stockings you wore with sleek black heels? Looking over yourself, you saw the dress came in at the waist, the bodice layered over your chest beneath the soft cardigan you wore for warmth.

Hesitantly, you lifted your hands to your hair. Sleek curls just reached your shoulders instead of the beach waves you’d touched up with your styling wand in the bathroom before you came over.

Was it an illusion?

“I’m going to find you,” Charles’ voice drew your attention back to the stone path lit up by the moon, flower beds bordered it on both sides, their colors swallowed by the night. “You’re not getting away from me, darling.”

_Oh._ You would have thought you’d like being called _darling_ by Sebastian Stan as Charles Blackwood. Right?

Something about his tone, the impatience beneath it, had you a little hesitant. What were you supposed to do here? Should you hide and make him find you? Did he know you were there?

Should you run out to greet him? After all, you were really late, and you were sure he didn’t want to spend all night here for charity. Hell, it was generous he’d still been wiling to see you right at midnight.

That made your decision. Carefully stepping around the huge, gnarled roots of the oak tree, you made your way towards the path as Charles walked past. Your dress snagged on the rough bark of the trunk. You almost turned an ankle in trying to avoid a hole.

It wasn’t until a twig snapped beneath your feet that he stopped, turning where he stopped with a smirk on his face.

_Oh, God, he’s beautiful._

At that point, you smiled and waved. “I’m here.”

With his hands clasped behind his back, Charles walked in your direction. His gaze roamed over you appreciatively as you carefully made your way to the path in the heels you weren’t used to walking in.

You came to a stop in front of him, just taking in how handsome he was. His dark hair was swept back in elegant waves, his slacks dark and the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up to his elbows.

Oh, this was worth the price of admission. This moment, standing mere inches away from him? It was worth every moment of overtime that you’d hellishly put yourself through.

Charles stepped even closer, making you look up now to hold his gaze. The faint scent of sandalwood and leather blended with nicotine and bourbon, the scent rich and masculine.

What did you do now?

Before you could say anything, Charles wrapped one arm roughly around your waist, hauling you tightly against him. His other hand clutched at your hair. Pain bloomed in your scalp as his fingers tightened there, pulling your head back while you winced.

“It… hurts,” you whined in his grip, letting him know in case he was just that into his performance.

“I want it to hurt,” Charles told you, his face moving down to yours until his breath pelted your skin and his lips were so close to your own. “Do you have any idea of how much trouble you’ve caused me, you little bitch?”

_What? Oh, shit. You didn’t want him mad at you._

“I’m s-sorry,” you stammered. “I’m so sorry I was late… Please—”

His mouth cut you off, slanting across your own in a brutal kiss. His tongue pushed into your mouth, one hand holding your head in place. The other hand forced your lower body into his, grinding the hot length of his cock into you meaningfully.

_Wait._

Planting your hands on his chest, the hard muscles beneath the linen unyielding, you tried to push him off you. His breath came fast. He looked angry, glaring at you, and running his tongue along his full lower lip.

“I think there must be a mistake,” you said quickly. “I’m here—”

“You’re here because I _want_ you,” Charles told you in no uncertain terms. “And I’m going to have you. The sooner you get that in your empty little head, the better off you’ll be.”

“Excuse me?” _What the hell was going on?_

The hand in your hair yanked sharply. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know that all of this was for you. I went through hell getting my uncle’s estate so I could make it back here.”

Charles didn’t get his uncle’s estate in the story you knew.

“Where is Constance? Merricat?” you whispered.

“They died in the fire,” Charles said with a snarl, starting to walk with you along the path, away from the tree where you’d started. “All of them, even poor Uncle Julian… all died in the fire.”

_Oh, God. Did he kill them?_

“And now that I’ve got all of that money,” Charles went on bitterly, forcing you along the path with him, “those ill-gotten gains, I’m still not good enough for your fucking mother.”

Your mother had been gone for five years. So what was going on here?

“I don’t understand, Charles.” You kept your tone calm, quiet.

There was a bench you were coming up on and when you reached it Charles shoved you down to sit there. Before you could do anything, his hand gripped your chin painfully, making you look at him where he loomed over you.

“You don’t understand?” Charles’ smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Then allow me to explain, darling. You’re going to be mine.”

You swallowed hard which was a fete with his grip on your face. Something was very wrong here.

“I really thought when I came back with the money that would be enough for your dear, sainted mother.” He spat the word _mother_ with such disdain it filled you with dread. “But since she seems determined that you spend time with Hurstfield, then I’m just going to have to up the ante.”

Okay, so there _was_ a story. Charles Blackwood killed his family from the story – it _was_ Halloween – for money to court whoever you were supposed to be. But your “mother” still had cold feet and there was another suitor so…

“What are you going to do?” Your voice shook.

“The one thing I can do to ensure you marry _me_ ,” Charles explained, his eyes glittering in the darkness.

When he didn’t tell you what that one thing was, your heart lurched in fear. You had a pretty good fucking idea. Sebastian Stan or not, this was _too_ real. You needed to find a way out.

You managed to dart away from him, off the bench. You stumbled up the path quick as you could but you didn’t know the path and Charles was hot on your heels. He grabbed the back of your dress and you went down, knees hitting the stones hard as did the heels of your hands.

“Help!” you screamed. “Constance!”

You were shoved down before you could rise, and Charles roughly flipped you onto your back. Grabbing you by the front of your dress, he shook you like a rag doll.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he hissed at you, his glare moving over you. “Constance is dead. And this is _going_ to happen. Although I’d really rather your mother think you being in delicate condition was consensual.”

Yep. That’s what you were afraid he meant. _Okay then…_

“Okay, time out,” you said frantically, trying to catch your breath as he tried to grab hold of your wrists. “Charles – _Sebastian_ – please stop. I must have missed something when I bought my ticket, but I really don’t – Just let me leave. I’ll sign an NDA, whatever you want, but please… I need to go.”

Confusion bled into his handsome face. “Sebastian? Who the fuck is that? Someone else your gold-digging mother’s got designs on?”

“Please,” you pleaded with him. “You don’t have to stay in character. I just—”

He slapped you across the face with an open hand. Not enough to hurt you. It _did_ get your attention.

Now you physically fought him, but Charles was much bigger than you. It was almost easy for him to trap you under his body, his will to use something hot and demanding had him raining hot, wet kisses over your face and neck as his weight held you to the ground. Cold stone scraped your back as his hips ground yours into it.

“I’ve wanted you since I laid eyes on you,” his voice was softer, a rough hand gripping the edge of your skirt and pushing it up, exposing your thighs to the cool night air. “You _had_ to know that.”

Tears leaked from the corners of your eyes as you tried to push him off, tried to move his hand as it roughly slid up your thighs. The rough pads of his fingers lingered when they reached the border of your stocking and found smooth, warm skin.

“I’ve always wanted to meet you,” you admitted, squirming, trying to get out from under him with no luck. “Not like this…” You gasped as his lips danced up the slender column of your neck, as his fingers dove into the warm damp cove between your thighs. “Not like this.”

“Did you save yourself for me?” he whispered in your ear. “Am I your first?”

You were supposed to be a virgin? _Seriously?_

“Please let me go,” you begged him as his hand fisted in your panties, ripping them off with a sound that sounded obscene in the innocence of the garden.

“Shhh.” A big hand clamped over your mouth, his weight holding you to the path. His other hand worked his belt, the front of his slacks. In a frustrated frenzy, you tried to buck him off, kick him. Anything.

It didn’t slow Charles down. Somehow the bastard worked his slacks down, took himself in hand. The head of him pressed into you with urgency, as if he expected to impale you on the first attempt. You pulled your thighs together or tried to. Charles’s heavier thighs pushed yours wider, his cock sinking into you, splitting you open.

_Jesus, he was big._

Charles’s eyes slid closed above you as he stopped pushing forward, a smile playing about his lips. “I knew it,” he whispered, fingers tightening over your mouth. “I knew no one else has ever been in this pussy before.”

When he pushed forward now, you winced at the sharp pain the movement brought.

_What the fuck?_ You were no virgin.

The pain made you pause as he sank into you, not pausing until he couldn’t go any further. His hand slid from your mouth into your hair as his mouth claimed yours. Charles started to move in you, the size of him combined with the force of his thrusts to make you breathe through the pain.

“Going to fuck a baby into you,” Charles whispered hotly into your ear, his tongue teasing the shell. “Going to pump you full until you’re having my kid.”

You were blinking back tears, shaking your head in denial. How the hell did you end up here? Under this lunatic in your really expensive haunted house experience? Sure he was beautiful and he looked a lot like Sebastian Stan. But it was _not_ the actor. But whoever he was? He believed in what he was doing.

And what he was doing was fucking you hard on the stone path of the mysterious garden. You were greatly relieved that your body finally worked to lessen the pain, weeping for him as he powered into you with strong, determined thrusts. More kisses rained over your face as a hand slid down to where his body invaded yours, teasing your clit with a delicacy that you wouldn’t have expected after his brutish behavior so far.

You resisted his attempts to make you feel good. At first. After a moment, the bastard _knew_ what he was doing, you clenched hard around his cock. You _squeezed_ him. His finger was a terrible tease around that pearl and the tenderness of it combined with the strength of his thrusts had your core tightening, had you fighting not to come.

No, by God, after everything the bastard wasn’t going to _make_ you.

Oh, but he was.

Charles peeled the cardigan away from one shoulder, his hot mouth chaining kisses over the tender flesh of your shoulder. His tongue teased that sensitive zone of yours like he’d been aware of it for years, left you gasping as the rough finger circling your clit had your core clenching hard, had you ready to explode.

You blew apart, crying out in the dark paradise around you while the crickets and night birds continued on with their songs like they were used to yours. The stars overhead swirled in crazy patterns as you moved with him, your walls fluttering around him.

And it was good. So _fucking_ good.

As you were trying to get back to this dark fantasy, to regain your breath, Charles’s hands were all over you, his thrusts falling out of rhythm as they grew in power and intensity.

“See, darling?” his voice was rough. “See how good it’s going to be when I’m your husband?”

_Your husband…_

Charles roared above you when he reached his end, his final thrusts edged with a bit of pain. You both struggled to breathe when he finally stilled, dropping more of his weight on you as he paused.

A gentle hand curved around the side of your face. His gaze moved over you, his smile wide. Charles looked _happy._

“That was good,” he whispered, carefully sliding out of you.

And it stung, had you curling onto your side as he lifted himself off you.

His exhale was a heavy sound above you. “You’re a mess darling.”

One hand skimmed over your left knee and it hurt. The stocking was ruined, the skin broken and bloody. You knew without looking the other knee was the same. The heels of your hands hurt though whether it was from falling or trying to get him off you, you couldn’t say.

You felt him brushing the back of your dress, no doubt covered in dirt and debris from the garden around you. After a moment, he gave it up.

“We’re going to tell your mother that you saw some animal out here and you were so scared you fell, alright?” Charles asked meaningfully. “You’re going to assure her that you were fine. And you were grateful that I was there to protect you.”

You snorted. _Right._ You just wanted to get out of here, back to your apartment. You’d try to forget this ever happened.

You were never doing another celebrity event. _Never again._

Like an old-fashioned gentleman, Charles helped you to your feet. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he guided you up the path, the raw flesh between your legs aching, until you reached what looked like a modest country house. It was well-lit from the inside, warm and welcoming.

That must be the end of the “attraction.”

Charles opened the door for you, smiling at a slender, silver-haired woman who stood there waiting, wringing her hands.

“Sweetheart,” she called when her gaze landed on you. She flew at you, taking your into her arms and immersing you in a cocoon of motherly warmth and lemon verbena. “What on earth happened? Are you okay?”

Pulling back to look you over, she glanced at Charles warily.

He looked at you meaningfully.

_Fuck. If it would get you out of there faster…_

“I fell,” you explained meekly. “There was some animal from the woods and it… it scared me. I took off running even though Charles tried to stop me and well…”

“Oh, you poor dear,” the woman sounded sincere. 

“I was lucky that Charles was there to protect me,” you said finally, knowing it was what he expected.

“We’ll head up so I can take care of your wounds,” she said after a moment. “I’m sure Charles can see himself out.”

Charles’ smile might have fooled “your mother” but it didn’t fool you. He nodded and said, “Of course. Goodnight, darling.”

Wanting to make him happy, you nodded. “Goodnight.”

You expected to be led out another doorway but instead, she led you to an ornate staircase. Maybe _that_ was the way out?

You glanced back as you carefully climbed the stairs, thinking to see Charles walk out the door. Hoping never to see him again. He grinned at you, pulling what was left of your panties out of his pocket like some sort of trophy.

_It’s almost over. Almost over._

But when you awoke the next morning, bandaged and warm in the same bed you’d fallen asleep in within your immersive Halloween experience, it was to the sound of tapping on the bedroom door. Your “mother” looked in on you.

“Sweetheart, Charles is here to check on you.”


End file.
